Censorship
by atrum infractus
Summary: Dean learns that censorship isn't always a bad thing. Just a little drabble put together at some ungodly hour.


**Censorship  
****by atrum infractus**

* * *

_**A/N;**__ I couldn't help referencing this amazing fanfic _**Life with Dean by SciFiNutTX**. _Check it out- it's a fun read. I'll be posting a link to it on my profile with the other references I've used._

_This started off as one of the Good Times at Lincoln High one-shots...but I think it's a tad too angsty for that collection. So this stands alone._

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It had started out as a perfectly friendly conversation around one in the morning. But late-night (or rather early-morning) conversations in the Winchester family rarely remained neutral; Dean had recognized the six of the warning signs of a near apocalyptic battle.

1) Sam wants something.  
2) Dad doesn't want it.  
3) Sam keeps asking why.  
4) Dad states the golden reason: "Because I Said So."  
5) Sam starts whining about how he never gets to do anything.  
6) Dad's hand keeps hovering where he normally keeps his gun and twitching.  
7) Dean finds an inventive way to avoid being a witness to homicide.

He fulfilled the final requirement by faking a huge yawn and collapsing in his bed and pretending to be asleep. And instantly, once the other two honestly believed Dean to be absent from the conscious world, the fighting began.

It began like it always did; at first, they stage-whispered, careful not to wake Dean. Which was dumb, because they had been in enough screaming matches to realize that he was not asleep. The second that it started to cross the line into attempted murder, he was magically awake

And even if he could manage to sleep with the looming threat of waking up to a crime scene, there was no possible way that he could manage to stay asleep during the course of one of their fights. If they thought it was, they should consider the noise complaints they got from people when they had just settled in. They usually came in the form of a timid landlord or motel manager who nearly pissed themselves at the sight of John Winchester and his murderous expression.

The fight had broken out in all its glory. Dean preferred not to focus on it; it made him feel vaguely sick to his stomach.

He rolled over onto his stomach, squeezing the pillow even more tightly over his head. Either he'd block out the racket or suffocate- either way, he wouldn't have to listen to their screaming, and that was perfectly fine with him.

"That is _so_ unfair!"

"YOU WANT UNFAIR?" roared Dad. Dean could hear his chair clatter to the floor as he stood to tower over Sam. "I sacrifice everything to save people! I ask you to make one sacrifice to save _lives_, but you're so selfish that all you do is bitch and moan over it! AND I'M SICK OF IT!"

There was a pause, but Sam didn't scream back. Which probably meant that he was probably scared shitless- not that Dean blamed him. If he ever pissed Dad off that much, he'd probably join a monestary in the Swiss Alps. And possibly change his name to Jerry Whitehead, or something awful like that.

"You tell your brother that I'll be back in a couple weeks. He can come out to Bobby's if he wants to help. And if your debate is so damn important to you, then you just go ahead and go. But if anyone dies, it's on your head. Because a stupid debate was so much more important to you than our job! Than your own goddamned _family_!"

"That's not-"

"FAIR?!" screamed Dad. "WHO CARES?! YOU'RE JUST GOING TO LEAVE ANYWAY! Isn't that the master _plan_? Just leave me and your brother and go live your glamorous little dreams out? Do you think that's _fair_?!"

The door slammed so hard that the glass in the windows rattled. Outside, the Impala roared to life and right out of the parking lot.

And there were the sounds of muffled crying from the door.

He could just roll over and pretend to be sleeping. He might even be able to drift off to the sound of his brother's broken sobs. But the sounds of Sam's pain were breaking his heart, even though he'd never admit it. He sat up slowly as Sam slid down the wall and curled into a ball. Dean kicked the sheets off and sat down beside him with a soft sigh.

"It's alright, Sammy." Dean snaked an arm around Sam's shoulders and pulled him into his shoulder. Sam stiffened at the unfamiliar possition for a moment, then relaxed into his chest, tears soaking through the fabric of Dean's favorite Metallica shirt.

This would be the perfect moment to tell his little brother that he love him (even though he was a massive pain in the ass). It probably wouldn't be a bad time to tell him that it wasn't his fault either. And Dean meant to say that. Well, he _kinda _did.

And he kinda did say it, too.

"You're a massive pain in the ass."

The corners of Sam's mouth turned up ever so slightly, but it was enough for Dean.

Nobody ever said censorship had to be bad.


End file.
